


The Lever Falls

by Lady_R



Category: One Piece
Genre: Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Mother-Son Relationship, Other, Physical Disability, Public Humiliation, Violence, Walk Of Shame, found family trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-29 23:16:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20444195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_R/pseuds/Lady_R
Summary: The Donquixiote Family has fallen, and the people of Dressrosa will not let them get away scot free.King Riku Dold III may be for peace, but he is not present right now. There's enough Seastone to keep them all in check.All the way to the harbor, they will walk under duress, blood on their feet and the jeers and yells of the crowd of those whom they wronged. No one to help. No one to cease it.All under the eyes of the man who brought them together.





	The Lever Falls

**Author's Note:**

> The song present in this story is Hard, by Rain Jewels. I came onto it on the radio and it became one of my favourite.  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z3MzXDbXLKQ

It doesn’t make sense.

-Bring them out! Bring them out!-

Not even the steadfast walls of the Royal Palace of Dressrosa seem like a safe place to hide anymore. From the open windows – no doubt left open on purpose, so that no drop of the due humiliation may escape his ears – the cries of the gathered population ring as loud as the cries of a Sea King.

-We’re ready! Take them here and let them pay!-

-They’re going to suffer for what they did to us.-

-You’ll pay, assassins!- 

It’s the balance of power: the type of thing of whose existence Donquixiote Doflamingo had always known about, but that would have not imagined ever crossing his path. It doesn’t happen. Not to him. 

Alas – when one is at the top of the world, it’s hard for them to see what’s below. 

And when the lever shifts, it’s the tallest above who pay.

_The cold cold ground I leave you now _

_I’m_ _ the gold where you go and I’ll follow _

_So take me higher where the wild winds flow _

_W_ _e turn to the sun where our seeds will grow _

A collar around the neck, linked with a chain to the cuffs that restrain the wrists behind the back, chained in turn to the fetters at the feet. And from the feet, another chain, up to the neck of the following spectacle. The finest Seastone in the New World, and even on him, it glows like sapphire. That will be their uniform as they walk their shame to the harbor, powerless and bare, recorded for the whole island and their captain to see. Ever-so-worthy family to he who brought them to the top. 

The king has privileges, however: the Seastone is wrapped around his arms, wrists tightly strapped to the handles, and a chain as thin as a cable slipping between his fingers. One link around the neck, a series of loops around the ankles, and a cuirasse of chains that makes his lungs sting at every breath. His feathery coat was taken, and Doflamingo can still see the string of smoke of it burning against the cloudy sky alongside his blouse: so the chains push on his skin, and small strings of red already roll down his skin. 

If his family will stay loyal to their Young Master, if there will even be a Young Master at all after the walk is done and their feet have all bled on the tiles of Dressrosa, it’s unlikely at best. King Riku would have not wanted this, nor his daughter and niece, but they are not there to see. At this moment the crowd is king, and queen, and executioner, and their anger and vengeance is the weapon of the act. 

_And it gets me with surprise _

_A_ _nd I cant believe my eyes _

-Here they are!-

Clamps are tight around the ex king’s stomach, burning almost as much as the chains on the lungs. _My family. My only family. Brought to the same level as I_. 

-There must be the whole island out there.-. A guard whose face he doesn’t recognize takes a bite from a peach and licks his lips. -Where’s their young master now?-

Doflamingo shakes his head. _He is up there, and they know_. When their walk of shame will be done, his will commence. Not properly a walk, since he won’t walk: he will sit on his throne, chained to it, and upon it be paraded along the roads. If those who carry him will mind the ridicule, the screams, and the wide quantity of goods his body will be soiled with, will remain a mystery even for him. 

-Hear them scream?- 

The crowd occupies a great deal of the screen, and as the gate opens and the first Elite Officer walks out, it’s as if a thousand fists are rising at once, and a thousand voices roaring in hatred and rage and _vengeance_. 

-Assassins! Murderers! Monsters!-

-Dressrosa won’t forget!-

-This is what you get!- 

The shaking mass of Trebol’s legs looks as tall as a tower at the light of dusk. Middle fingers raised, tongue already out in dismissal, the first tomato to reach his face mixed up with his soiled hair and almost vanished between the tick coils of his beard. He used to be colossal, when he had snot on his side. Now even his nose looks dry, and his nostrils are red for the clotted blood. But even as the shell is gone, and the ex-Officer of Flowers reveals himself as the shriveled old man he has always been, Trebol balances himself on his reedy legs, and heads to the walk of shame as if he was leading a parade of honor. 

-BEHEHEHE! YOU MAKE ME LAUGH!-

One of the clamps holding onto Doflamingo’s stomach loosens itself. Like the very muck that made him, Trebol doesn’t let anything in his way change his shape. Not even the balls of mud that accumulate themselves on his chest, or the egg splattered on his forehead alongside a drop of blood are enough for his grin to go away.

-BEHEHE!-. Trebol snorts, and spits a ball of mucus and saliva towards the audience. Another egg shatters on his folded kneecap. -Burn him!- someone yells. -He’s gross!-

-Toss a match at him!-

_There’s a little Celestial Dragon in us all. Scrambling to come out, roaring in pride the moment someone weaker steps in our way._

-HERE COMES THE MURDERER!- people scream. Trebol turns around, a strained smile on his face.

-We got a difficult audience here, Diamante.-

-Shuhh up.-

It takes him five seconds to speak those two words. Only clad in his red trousers – with holes on the knees, blood pouring from the open wounds into the fabric – the Diamond Executive looks naked. His back is folded forward, a string of drool escapes his lips and dangles onto the cast on his neck. One of the guards that dragged him to the throne had said that his metallic cape was thrown at the very bottom of the sea, but as he is now, Diamante could not wear it anyway. 

_His spine is damaged_, Doflamingo recites in his head. _His hand tremors will accompany him all his life. He will never weld a sword again_.

Not that the onlookers seem to care.

-All hail the Hero Of The Colosseum!-

Every step Diamante takes is accompanied by a concert of metallic clanks. His hands shake inside the cuffs; fingers twitching like leaves, and a stutter that doesn’t belong there has taken over his teeth.

_A lucky man_, the army medics had said: such a blow to the neck, only trembling at the hands and a minor speech impediment._ Someone up there really loved this man_, Doflamingo thinks in disgust. Even his lipstick is smudged, and his head looks misshapen without his beret. 

-D-D-Diamante!-. The audience erupts in laughter as he trips on the uneven road and lands face-first into Trebol’s shoulder. -You had what was coming! Princess Scarlett will be avenged!- 

-Have your applause, Diamurderer!-

-All hail the great warrior!-

It’s said that the late princess of Dressrosa was a pacifist, but it’s hard to imagine any of this coming from the throng of onlookers. She’d be so disappointed – a faint smile pops on Doflamingo’s lips, but it immediately vanishes the moment a ball of mud the size of a watermelon splatters on Diamante's face, dropping from his neck and all over his chest. 

-Murderer! Murderer!-

Diamante can’t smile. His lips quiver, and his teeth chatter. Yet his eyes lose themselves into the sky, and his steps are regular despite the trembling of his knees. He was a great swordsman, and a loyal brother. Not even his charm upon the crowd of the Corrida Colosseum will save him from this. As if the Hero of the Colosseum had never even been. As if there had never been anything to admire at all in the great performer he still is.

That’s what people do. They love to take their shortcomings out on anyone they can find. Because it’s funny, after all, and everybody loves themselves a big laugh.

And as a shadow rises from the door, as tall and wide as a mountain, a wave of laughter erupts from the onlookers, louder at every step the newcomer takes.

_No. Not him. Not this. _

When the first “it’s the soprano” reaches him, Pica shakes his head – and Doflamingo blesses him, for not even he is foolish enough to attack in such a state. His eyes glow red, though, and his wrists clank miserably in thin air, tugging against the chain that links them to his ankles, unable cover up what’s coming. One hand rests inside the other against his back, in a tense embrace to and for himself.

Like the rock by the wave, he can’t run.

-Soprano! Soprano bastard! Squealer!-

-Pull his hair, make him squeak!-

-Look, It’s the Castration Castration Fruit.-

-Hey, soprano, did you get your balls caught between the door hinges?-

-Pikyah-pikyah-pikyah-pikyahrarara!- 

The laughter seems to shake the walls. _They aren’t laughing because they find him funny anymore_, Doflamingo realizes averting his eyes from the screen – Pica‘s lip is quivering, and his humongous arms twitch in their binds in a bestial fashion. Trickles of red juice already run down his forehead, into his eyes and down his nose, into the clenched lips, like the blood from a punch.

_They want to laugh because they know what it means for u_s -how high can that falsetto go, Peek-yah?- _and especially for him_.

To be ridiculous. To be a clown. And a sad clown at that.

-I will kill you all!-. Pica tries, oh, does he, but even a traditional voice wouldn’t sound intimidating if the man speaking had tomato juice running down his face and a banana peel stuck between the shoulder pads. _And chains. Never forget those_. They removed all of his gold suit of armor – including his boots, and Doflamingo is ready to bet they only did it to make him squeak and whine at every step on the coarse stone – and only his purple shorts protect his skin from the rancid rain bombarding it. 

-Stop laughing!- he roars, or attempts to. -Stop it right now! I will…-

-What will you do? Squeak us to death?- someone calls. -Peep! Cheep! Stop making us laugh, Picastrato!-

-He’s ridiculous!-

-I can’t breathe! That voice is a riot!-

-I’LL SHUT YOU U…-

_He would crush them into bits_, Doflamingo thinks as a blue fish the size of a sword splatters on the ex-Executive’s face, crumbling into slush on his neck and chest. That’s what he always did. But to him, right now, stone is just stone: still and indifferent. What a man like Pica can become if rendered completely helpless, against a crowd that wants nothing more than to ridicule every inch of him, isn’t something he wants to experiment. His teeth sink into his lips, deep enough to bleed.

_The sky was falling why you make it so hard _

_T_ _he air was shaking and I was falling so apart _

_A_ _nd it cuts me like a knife _

_B_ _ut it brings me back to life _

_I keep breaking while you keep making it hard _

When Sugar appears outside the gate, as tiny as a mole in Pica’s broad shadow, a whistling noise fills Doflamingo’s ears. Too loud, even from up there. He can hardly recognize her close-up on the screen, as her mantle is also gone, probably burned somewhere next to his coat – and all of Jora’s paintbrushes and canvases, and Gladius’ books, and Dellinger’s shoes, and Pica’s fine collection of swords, and Diamante’s coats and hats, and all of the things that made them who they are. 

_Like a bad memory you want to get rid of_. 

Sugar’s face seems to crumble at every step, even if she still doesn’t tremble as much as the colossus that preceded her. Maybe it’s the fact that she looks like a child, but even with what they know about her and how she used her power, the rage that surrounds her is not arising any more than before. Still, the bag of flour that is thrown on her face, and the choir of “monster” that accompanies every step isn’t escalating. Maybe there was a limit, and it has been touched already.

-Go away, you monsters!-

-Assassins! Bloody assassins!-

-Rot in hell!- 

A group of teenagers are pelting Machvise’s face in moldy potatoes, yellow slush already dangling from his beard and chest hair. From the windows rotten apples, fish, balled up paper and all the ingredients of a nutritious salad rain on their hair and their bare bodies. 

-Mama!-

-I’m here, Dellybeans.-. Juice and mud dangle from Jora’s hair like rain, and a rotten fish has gotten stuck to one of Dellinger’s horns. When the oil drips on his face, the boy licks it avidly. His chuckle rings through the square, and another clamp in Doflamingo's stomach is gone.

-It’s fun after all.- Dellinger comments. -Free food raining from the skies!-

-Just be careful, dear. You don’t know where it’s been, zamasu.-.

Jora’s smile is strained, but looks just honest enough. She’s in her petticoat, already wet and stuck to her body. Whistling follows her every step, and her wet skirt is red and yellow and green. She stares at it with a faint smile – she probably finds it artsy – but another ball of mud to the face is quick to wear it away.

-You insubordinates!-. Lao G stomps on his feet. -This is gross! With the “G”!-

-Shut up, old man! Shut up!-. From the way he’s wincing, his ears have started to ring. A scream sounds from the square – a woman’s voice, and quite familiar – and the aged fighter clenches his teeth shut. 

-Let me through!-, the same woman repeats. -Stay back!- a guard says, followed by the sounds of a punch and a grunt from the man. The woman has orange hair, curly and thick, and she wears a magenta flight jacket over nothing but a bikini swimsuit. 

-I am here for Señor Pink! Señor! I’m Charlotte, remember me?-

-Stay away from me!-. It’s another woman, and her trench coat – again, nothing but a bikini underneath – flutters in the wind as she stretches her hand towards the man of her dreams. Kari, that was her name, and her face is a clear enough memory to know what brings her there. The man who used to go as Señor Pink is hardly himself – his eyes are red, albeit his face is dry, and the mud they threw at him is stuck in between his black hair. Gone are his bonnet, his scarf and pacifier. Gone is the Señor Pink he knows: was those women’s love so earnest, if they stay with him even after it’s all gone?

-Señor! Take this blanket!-. Kari pushes a man away and waves the prized object towards his old associate. Another woman – what was her name again? –runs into the fray, red of hair, a cowboy hat on her head and umbrella in her dainty hands. -Señor. Hide behind this!-

-Joanna. Kari. Charlotte.- Señor’s voice is as cold as ice. -I have not requested your presence.-

-We will walk with you, Señor!-

Kyuin's hair are loose around her round face. She takes off her tie and throws it on the ground. A fifth woman, as blonde as her, peeks from behind her shoulder. -Let us come with, Señor. Be your wards.-

-This is between me and my family, Emily.-, Señor says, but his tone is less stern. Gladius squirms behind him, the yolk of an egg running down his neck: -Take the bloody blanket, Pink. Not that it’d change a thing.- 

Just on cue, one of the guards rips the blanket off him. Kari and Joanna scream, Kyuin glares at him in anger. -He is being punished. Do not interrupt!-

-He protected us many times!-. Charlotte throws her sunglasses on the ground in frustration. The guard grabs her by her curls, and she kicks him in the groin with unexpected reflexes. -Let us protect him now! Señor!-

A man lifts a tomato, ready to throw, and Emily tackles him full force, mud splattering all over her blonde hair. Kyuin pulls her up by hand. 

-I’m just saying for your own good.-. Señor Pink shakes his head in the collar to wave off the juice of another tomato. -Fledgelings such as yourself could get hurt.-

-We don’t care!-. Joanna almost grunts. With her cowboy hat, she strikes the face of a woman with a bag full of eggs. 

A milkshake shatters on Gladius’ face, and his pale skin seems to turn green and sickly. 

-Knock it off, alright? Let them do this. It’s their prerogative to get hurt for what they want. It’s not like they have it worse than us.- 

-Yes. It’s over anyway. Let’s just walk and leave, dasuyan.- 

After Buffalo, last in line and unrecognizable without his soft coat, only a squadron of guards follow the line. At their passage, the screams of rage shift into applause. The cameras don’t show them long, though, and Doflamingo is glad. 

_I see you now in a ray of light _

_I_ _ grab ur hair there was a golden glow _

_A_ _nd in my heart there was an endless fight _

_W_ _e both know were too close to the sun _

It’s Buffalo who notices it first, raising his short neck in curiosity. A scream, and another familiar voice. Doflamingo shakes his head in torpor. It cannot be. 

-We found her next to the docks.- a guard says. -She’s one of them.- 

-Let me go! You’re hurting me! This is my family!-

Is it? There’s almost longing on Buffalo’s face as she is pushes into the square, on her knees, the tip of a gun digging through her hair. Baby 5 wipes the blood off her scabbed kneecaps and takes a deep breath. 

-Didn’t she leave?-. Johanna fixes her hat on her head. She will never reach Señor Pink – nor Emily, Charlotte, Kari or Kyujin – but that won’t stop them from trying. Kyuin pushes her to the side. -We should help her. She is still family.-

Is she? The guard that holds Baby 5 tightens his hold onto her back. -She attempted to take hostages with her Devil Fruit power. We subdued her with a net of Seastone.- 

Baby 5 smiles in embarrassment. -The hostages for my family, that was the deal. I’m sorry it did not work. But at least, now we’re together.-

-What are you doing here, traitor?-, Gladius spits out. Lao G too writhes in his cuffs. -You are no longer family. Go away, with the “G”.-

The girl takes a step back, but her eyes glow of resolve. -I am family. I’ve always been. Only now do I see where I am needed the most.-

She shakes her head frantically, to free it from her hair. -If I cannot free you, I will join you.-. She elbows the guard that holds her and stares at him with unlikely anger. 

-You! Give me handcuffs of my own, and let me join my family in their walk of shame.-

You could cut the tension with a knife. Baby 5 won’t attack, not with her family in such vulnerable state. She will stay, no one can do anything about it, and Doflamingo can’t believe he’s the only one who sees it. The world is big, and even a warrior as formidable as her has all the right to be afraid. He’d be. He has been. And he can tell it will happen more often in the future.

Truth is, if there was ever a familiar of his he’d have expected to defect, it’d not have been her – the girl whose tears had stained his coat for days on end, as she called for a mother that would have never been there. If she thinks going back now means going back to stuffing her face in Jora’s cakes, being taught makeup by Señor Pink’s entourage of fans and braiding Pica’s lush lilac hair as if it nothing had changed, she is a stupid woman and they did something wrong in raising her. 

Lao G scoffs: -Just run away with that hunk of yours.-.

-Another woman needs my husband more than I. Let me go back. I am a Donquixiote, and I refuse to leave my family.-

-This spectacle is miserable-in.-. Machvise rubs his soiled cheek on his shoulder. -Don’t add to it.-

But Jora twists herself in her chains just enough to look at her. -We all make mistakes, child. And you too have hands to clean.-

Baby 5’s eyes glow. -Do you truly need me to?-

-No.-. Dellinger swings on his feet as if he was still in heels. -But you seem to want to, and who are we to stop.-

Then a cabbage lands on her face, and she shrieks, but keeps her stance. As if a sentence had been passed.

-Just take her already! She’s just as guilty!-

-Murderous wench!-

-Wrangle the bitch like the rest!-

When the chains are placed, and her collar is linked to the fetters on Buffalo’s feet, Doflamingo sees her eyes water. She gulps, adjusting herself, and looks ahead. 

-It’s good to have you, despite the circumstance, dasuyan.- Buffalo says as thick drops of juice run down his hair. -Welcome back.-

Baby 5 raises her face to the sky and smiles as if all she ever wanted was right by her side.

_And it hits me by surprise _

_A_ _nd I cant believe my eyes _

When the parade reaches the market square is when he hears the thud. They must have been going for almost an hour, now, and their feet leave traces of clear and thick blood. Jora’s petticoat is now anything but white, Baby 5’s hair are a mass of their own, Trebol looks as if he was all covered in muck again, Machvise’s chest looks as slick as slime and even Dellinger can’t hold a smile anymore. Even Emily, Señor Pink’s blonde follower, has somehow got herself a black eye._ What was that noise?_ It’s the sudden uprising of laughs that tell him the detail.

-Can’t take it no more, soprano?-

-Have you heard that scream?-

-That _squeak_!- 

Splattered on the cement around his head, Pica’s hair are as wet as kelp. His cheek rests on the tiles, a puddle of red widening itself underneath. Only after seconds does Doflamingo realize his own mouth is open. 

_He fell_. One step too broad towards one of the countless laughing faces, the chains tensing between his ankles, and there went his balance. With his hands bound behind his back, it had been his face the first part of him to reach the tiles. And for the first time in his life, stones hurt. Forehead, cheek, nose and chin bleed thick and red on the black of the bruises.

-That will hurt.- the guard says. -I pray that it does. This man murdered my brother for having laughed at him.-. His voice shakes, and the other guard is quick to place his hand on his shoulder. -What man kills another for… for laughing?- 

-I too lost a friend like this. He said…-. But whatever the other guard’s friend has said does not matter, because Doflamingo notices just then that his Executive of Spades, the man of stone himself, is crying like a child on the bloodied tiles.

-Stop… stop laughing…- 

A cabbage reaches him right on the mouth. -Laugh louder! There’s nothing he can do now!-

-Why can’t we laugh? Your voice is a riot!-

-Cry, Picastrato! Cry!- 

With a body so large, only an idiot would miss him, even laying on the ground like an elephant waiting for death. Blood seeps from his cheek and chin as he pulls himself to his knees, and the lit torches of the onlookers make the tears on his cheeks glow silver.

The damp faces of the Army Of Dressrosa, sobbing and screaming as the strings pulled, flash for a moment in front of Doflamingo’s eyes in place of Pica’s. It all connects. There must be some of them, around there, enjoying the moment like the finest of spectacles. 

But they were weak, and under another’s control. _Nobody makes my family cry. Nobody laughs at my family_. But he is up there, and they are down below, and Pica – _Pica!_ – is crying as a crowd of those who feared him laugh like hyenas at his misery. 

And the chains clank, as uneven steps leave irregular tracks on the tiles all the way to him. 

Because of the cast on his neck, Diamante is the only one who doesn’t have a collar, the chain passing instead underneath his elbow and right to the back, where his hands are bound. Thus he folds his knees and arches his back, droplets of sweat running down his forehead, looming over the fallen man like a grace from the heavens. 

-L-Look at me.-

The ex-Officer Of Spades hiccups as he raised his head. It’s a sweet sound, a baby bird chirping for the first time, but the following one is completely covered by the tidal wave of laughter that follows.

Diamante cringes, disgust plastered on his wide grin.

-Get up and walk. Thishh ish’t you. Thishh isn’t happening.-

-Didi...-. Another hiccup cuts the line in half, followed by another eruption of laughter. Diamante shakes his head, brushing Pica’s tear-stricken face with his hair.

-Get up, child.-

-No... no...-.

He looks around in panic, and bows his head so that his hair may hide his tears. Diamante pulls his chin up with his knee. 

-You can do thishh. Chthand up.-

-Make it stop.- Hiccup. -I beg you. Make it stop.-

Diamante’s face flushes paler yet. Pica _begging_ is familiar to them and only to them, in the careful manner that all the best kept secrets have. Pica defiled, soiled and derided, begging year after year to a body too grown and not grown enough at the same time. Pica who is strong and brutal, and only values brutal strength, because he will never be awarded any other weapon.

And now it’s public. As naked as the man himself, on whose large back at least three eggs have been smashed. He could have asked at any moment to have it surgically changed into something more acceptable, he had the means and the money. But it was never about his timbre – it was the others, always them. A powerful man can turn laughter into fear, but a helpless man must settle with laughter. 

Diamante licks his lips, cringing. 

-You wanted schtone? Be schtone. Follow me. Make as if chhey didn’t exist.-

-I... m-my voice...-

-Walk, Pebbles. Jushht w-walk. It’sch schpeech, no more, no lesh. Thisch will end.- 

_It won’t_. Even he must know. It never ended, and it possibly never began either. For Pica, that is how it’s always been. It’s as much a constant in his life as air and water. 

Not that Diamante needs to be told: he has been there from day one, lifting him up from the dust, shielding him even before acquiring his metallic cape. If Jora was able to immediately embrace Dellinger, with his horns and his teeth, it may just be possible that a destructive manchild who can’t speak without being ridiculed finds himself a parent of sorts. Diamante saw something special in that humble stone, and after years and years, he still finds himself wiping his tears.

-Look, It’s Diamurderer and Picastrato!- someone growls from the bottom of the square.

-Go cry to papa, squeak toy!-

-Soprano bastard and Murderer McSlurface!-, is heard more closely, as a bucket full of brown liquid is thrown on their faces. It mixes up with the blood on Pica’s mouth – from the broken nose and the lip he himself bit – and it runs down their chests, thick and lucid.

-Get up, Pica!- 

Doflamingo has no idea how did Baby 5 Scream so loud. Pica turns his head back, hair stuck to his tear-stricken cheeks. -Come on! We’re right behind you! You can do this!-

-Get up, child! Ignore them! They don’t matter, zamazu!-

-Mama is right! Let them laugh! They don't get you!- 

-Come on, Pica! You’re worth a thousand of them!- 

-You can do this, child! Get up – with the G!-

-Let them laugh! Nothing they say matters, dasuyan!-

The spikes on Pica’s shoulders tremble as he pulls himself to his knees and wipes his nose into his shoulder. The trace of fresh tears cuts through his soiled face, his gargantuan back quivers at every sob. 

-One shhtep at a time.-. Diamante pulls himself up, knees wobbling as if his body was as heavy as a mountain. -They do not echhist, pebbles. You are schtone, and it doesch not break.-

-I don’t…-

Suddenly, it’s as if he was a mountain again. Even in that form, he was not immune from ridicule, but for the first time, he feels just as strong as a mountain. He walks the tiny steps the manacles force him to, through the beets and eggplants splattering on his face and the choir of “soprano” and “castrato” and whatever else they have ringing from every direction.

As they progress on the docks, caressed by the rustling sea even louder than the jeers, their steps are more regular and their back straighter. As if their feet were stroking soft grass instead of coarse grit, and their tracks weren’t red of blood. 

Family, he finds himself repeating. It’s the ones in power that decide what’s good and bad, and his strange acolytes will use what power they have to make what decisions they can. For others, as well. When Gladius headbutts a man who had reached his hand too close to Baby 5’s rear. When Jora takes time to kiss Dellinger’s cheek, even after at least three eggs of different degrees of rot have fractured right there. When Machvise uses his body as a shield to shield Kari and Charlotte from a sudden launch of browned cheese. And the last clamp on his stomach vanishes like nothing when Pica – tears still rolling down his chin, his chest a mosaic of different foods – opens his manacled hands like fans, forming a protective roof above the tiny figure of Sugar, behind his back. 

_It’s for Monet. The debt is paid_. As soon as he found out about the Snow Snow fruit, he immediately begged her to freeze his throat. It didn’t hoarse his voice, and the terrible laryngitis he had gotten afterwards was enough of an incentive not to try again. But Monet had obliged, and Sugar is on her own in a very, very big world. 

_No, not on her own. Never that_. Sugar whispers a thank you the microphones barely catch, and Doflamingo’s fingers relax around the armchair. 

It’s just a walk, after all. He won’t even have to _walk_. And he will be the captain and leader he is meant to be. There have been plenty of fallen kings in the past, but they weren’t him.

_Ohh, I follow you into the night _

_O_ _hh, far away from the light _

_O_ _hh, it's such a beautiful time _

_A_ _nd it hits me with surprise _

_A_ _nd I cant believe my eyes _

-Get a move on! You, here. Separate these two! And don’t drool on my foot, Diamurderer!-. Doflamingo didn’t even realize they had finished. By the position of the sun, more than two hours have passed since the walk of shame began. A stage of wood has been arranged in front of the marine ship, and they are there, blood on their feet and tiredness on their faces. 

-Señor!-. Emily, Charlotte, Kari and Joanna – the latter two sitting atop Kyuin’s shoulders – wave their hands towards the stage. -We’re here, Señor! You did good! Hard-boiled as usual!-

-You all did good!- the factory worker says. -It’s going to be over soon! You all did good!-

Jora with her multicolor petticoat and Dellinger, whose horns are also no longer white. Lao G’s naked chest plastered in lentils and juice, Machvise and his dripping beard, Baby 5’s legs reddened by pours and pours of tomato sauce and Buffalo’s naked, shivering body.Señor Pink’s reddened cheeks and Gladius’ back, brown and lucid. Sugar, shaking her head to free it from the soy sauce all over it. And at the very center, kneeling and worn out: snot runs down Trebol’s face par for the course, while Diamante’s chin drips in sweat and drool, and Pica’s is so red in dried blood and tears it makes him look like a Fishman. 

-Oi! Doffy!-. Trebol shakes his head to free it from hair. -Can you hear me? We’re waiting for you! It’s not that bad once you get used to it.- 

The throne is lifted, the doors are opened, and the crowd is up for him. 

-There he is!-

-Bring out the murderer!-

-Make him suffer!-

-Assassin! Monster!-

-Tis I.- Doflamingo relaxes his lips into a smile and shuffles on the throne as if to make himself more comfortable. A gust of air strokes his cheek coldly. 

-I heard stories, about this man.- A voice from behind him, and a stench of peach to his nose. -About how the Donquixiote Family came to be.-

Somehow, the guard’s words make him shiver. _Stupid_. _It’s just the cold_, he tells himself. He misses his coat so. 

-Something about years ago…- 

Doflamingo’s fingers cling to the chair again. As if he was afraid, or something. _Why am I doing this? It’s just a walk, and I won’t even…_

Then it’s dark.

He blinks through the darkness and feels fabric on his face. Thick, coarse, probably a piece of a sack. Dark. Too dark. Never has it been so dark since a day long, long gone. 

There was no Familia, back then. No Numancia Flamingo, no Dressrosa, not even a String String Devil Fruit. 

Just him, and a world that loathed him.

-What is this? Take it off!- 

-I knew you’d like it. Now go. This is the revenge of Dressrosa’s pain.- 

Doflamingo’s skin is suddenly cold. -No…- he blurts out, but the throne is being lifted and something wet and moldy has brusquely landed on his face. His house is burning, Father and Rocy are crying in pain, and he will kill them all, kill them all, kill them all. 

-I said take this off me! I can’t see! Where have you gone?- 

Now he can’t feel his skin anymore. The clanking of the chains tell him that he’s shaking. The blindfold is tight and heavy and he’s sweating underneath. Rocy is somewhere begging to die, yet he’s also dead. And so is Father. Yet Father is there, and his tears are soaking his chest. And it burns.

-Revenge! Monsters!-

_-Celestial dragons!-_

-Monsters!-

-Let’s take back what has been stolen!-

_Let me go. Let me see_. At every breath of his, the chains tense around his chest and tear his skin off. _It’s not it, I just feel it, do not lie to yourself_. But how can it be any different if it burns so much. He cannot see. They might as well set him on fire. How can he tell?

-Take this off me, I said!-

Why is he afraid of darkness? Black is a color like any. It’s like Rocy’s coat, no? What would Rocy do if he saw him? It doesn’t matter, he’s dead, dead, dead. And so is Father. But he hears them scream, and some man talk about his eyes that were taken from him when he was a slave.

-Take this off! I can’t see!-

Toys don’t have eyes, though. What is going on? Something splatters on his face, cold and slick and somehow as hot as the sun itself as the same time. His ears ring for the screams. Monster. Murderer. Traitor. Die. Homing and Zoraida and Rocy are screaming somewhere alongside them. Why aren’t they helping? He is family. Brother and son. His family has walked their shame in blood to the docks, and no one will be there to help. Even the greatest crew can fall from grace. His skin is melting. His fingers are numb. His mouth is full of dust and ash. His eyes are gone underneath the darkness. 

Monsters. _Celestial Dragon scum_. Let’s take Dressrosa back.

-TAKE THIS FUCKING THING OFF MY EYES!-

His scream vanishes among the others, and his face is on fire underneath its binds. 

_Ohh, it cuts me like a knife _

_B_ _ut it brings me back to life _

-…ng Master?-

-Doffy?-

-Breathe, Young Master.- 

-We’re here. It’s over.-

_But where is “here”? _His mouth chews onto the air, his fingers clench on the armchair. Breathe. The blindfold is still on, and his trousers are heavy in sweat. A droplet runs down his chest, as cold as a knife. _How much time has passed? _

-What…-

-Doffy?-. _It’s Trebol. Follow him. It’s going to be fine_. -Doffy? You’re at the docks. The navy is here. It’s over. Breathe.- 

-Young Master, this is Gladius. Take deep breaths. It’s…-

But what it was, he’d never find out. It’s all silent, now, and the tiles are quaking for someone’s steps. Doflamingo retreats to the back of the seat, and he hates it. Hands stroke his temples and rip the blindfold off in one swift gesture. He sees wrinkles, and grey, and a crown. 

-King Riku! You’re back.- 

-He’s all yours to take! The usurper, Doflamingo!- 

Riku Dold III holds the blindfold like a sword taken from an enemy, and throws it on the ground. Where did he even come from? And there goes Violet, no, Viola, and Kyros with Rebecca in tow, with gazes that could burn the city to the ground.

He opens his mouth, but his tongue is still. _Breathe and speak. Try again_. 

-Is this s-spectacle of your liking, King Riku?-

He’s surprised they even heard him, it sounded so strained, as if he had been gargling rusted nails for all the duration of the _walk_. Riku looks at him with pity, and never has Doflamingo wanted his strings back in what feels like an eternity. 

-None of this is a spectacle. This is not my Dressrosa.-

_It’s mine, or at least it was_. He sees Viola’s clenched fist, Kyros’ arm stretched against Rebecca’s shoulder. He pants into the cold air, chest heaving and chains burning on his skin. The king’s face wrinkles in anger. 

-Cover these people up at once. And bring them water.- 

Bottles are passed between the present, poured down the waiting lips of his disgraced, defiled family. The king himself offers a bottle to Doflamingo. 

-Wha- _breathe and speak, breathe and speak,_ -what is this?-

-Do not refuse it. We both know you need it.-

_What game is he playing?_ Feeling the flavor of his own tears vanish down his throat is a blessing in and of itself, yet it’s hard to look at Riku’s face. Nor at anyone’s. Not even his family’s faces feel like family, so dirty and unkempt. The king passes the bottle to a marine and drapes a cloth over his shivering body. 

-I cannot believe I have to apologize to you. We left for three days. I would have never imagined this would happen.- 

Before Doflamingo can muster an answer, alongside the vocal capacity to utter it, Riku Dold III has stepped to the front of the makeshift stage.

-Shame… using shame as a punishment. Torture, the payback of the coward. Is this what Dressrosa has become? The island of sadism, vengeance and humiliation?-

Suddenly, the square is silent, and it’s as if the king’s voice came from the skies itself, louder than thunder and just as much a spectacle. Viola drapes her own cape on Sugar’s shoulders and walks by his side. 

-They lost.- the princess steps by the side of his father and shakes her head, raven locks dancing around her face. -Let the law dispose of them.-

-They must pay!-. It’s a solitary voice, and somehow it sounds louder.

-They are monsters!-

-We could have gone harsher!-

_I believe it. You all once did, and I was there as well, in this same state_. Riku shakes his head as he turns back to them, like a disappointed parent hearing about their child’s mischief. -Now, you and your family will depart to Impel Down. You will be sentenced according to a fair and just law. This humiliation is not what we are.-

-Easy words.- Doflamingo raises his voice, and his throat burns. -For one who was not present.-

-It was because I was not present, that this happened. I won’t ever allow this again.-

-What are you waiting for? They’re yours! Rip their heads off!-

Someone from the crowd, yet again. Viola places a hand on her father’s shoulder. 

-Bring Mr. Diamante here.-

His legs tremble like reeds: it takes five marines to lift him up. His face is so sweaty his skin looks aglow, and his cuffs clank furiously at his trembling hands. Even now, next to the royal family, someone has the gall to throw a pear at him. 

-Diamurderer!-

-Assassin!-

-He’s all yours, Princess Viola and King Riku.-.

Viola circles the bound man, avoiding his gaze whenever it falls upon her. It’s the cast on his neck that she stares to. She knows what it’s there for: her precious brother-in-law had probably told her all about his glorious deed. Diamante isn’t supposed to be a slog, to whom every word and gesture feels like a chore, and Doflamingo can hardly look at his defiled face as he helplessly drools over himself.

-This is the man who murdered my sister.- Viola says. -Everyday I mourn her loss, and pray that her rest is quiet and peaceful.-

Diamante slurs a groan, drool plopping on the ground by his feet.

-Now look at what has been of him. He will never fight, or dance, or even speak properly again.-

-Like father, like son!-, a woman yells. Viola takes a deep breath. Pica emits another sob. 

-He will carry this burden all his life, as he lays in jail alongside his ilk, reflecting upon what he did and the consequences of it all. This will be his eternal walk of shame.-

-I am sho touched, Your Grashe.- Diamante laughs, but it sounds cold. -We all are, shee?-

He strikes a glance to Kyros and Rebecca. The warrior covers her daughter with his arm, but she pulls herself out.

-I’m not afraid, father-sama. This miserable man is worth only pity.-

And just like on cue, another drop of drool runs down Diamante’s lips and onto the tiles. Viola whips out a handkerchief and dabs it on his chin.

-Carry them off, already. They will never step foot in here again. And this will be all.-

Diamante folds his knee. One moment later, he is kneeling again, hair flopping in front of his face and a whine of pain escaping his lips.

-Uhah... Weak kneesh.-

His hair are stuck to his sweat-plastered face, his lips quiver. Doflamingo would tell him to pay them no heed, but it’s as if an entire sack of chalk had been poured down his throat. -The doctor had told me not to schtrain myshelf.-

The tiles squeak. Riku Dold III moves aside as Pica limps all the way to the front. Rebecca grimaces, and it's not hard to see why: the left side of his face is blue for the bruises, and bubbles of bloody snot have collected underneath his nose.

The colossus kneels by Diamante’s side, offering a spiked shoulder to lean upon. Even now, snickers and giggles rise from the crowd as he moves, and a “soprano” is clearly heard from the frontlines. Pica’s bloodied lips clench, as if he was trying not to scream while a wound was being cleaned. The handcuffs are undone, then clipped back so that his hands stay on the front.

-Thank you, pebbles.- Diamante rests his head on Pica’s chest, sighing in relief. -I raished you well.-

In that shaky embrace of Seastone, he is hauled and carried off, into the waiting maw of the warship to Impel Down. One can’t even lift a spoon, let alone a sword, and the other probably won’t speak for a long time. But a parricide knows no bloody thing about what being a father and son is supposed to be: might as well decide they were made for each other and let them be what they are. 

-It appears we’ve been here too much.- Trebol lifts himself up as well and lets the marines take him away. -It’s time for us to go. It happens. But this won’t be the end. Behehehe.- And he harks in pride, loudly, at the final steps. Sugar follows suite, head held high. 

-We’ll be waiting for you, Señor.-. Charlotte blows her nose and waves. -There’ll always be a home for you, with us!-

-We promise!- Kyuin hugs Kari and Emily. -I located your pacifier! We will keep it for you!- 

-You should say goodbye to them, Pink.-. Gladius manages to turn around one moment before being pulled back to the front. The older man nods. He takes a deep breath as the guards lift Machvise up as well.

-Just don’t rot, without me. Get a job. Get a life. Stop being fledgelings for once.- 

-So hard-boiled.-. Joanna zips up her jacket and holds Emily’s hand into hers. -We too must be hard-boiled now.- 

-I will teach you all about factory work. Follow me. We will be hard-boiled in Senor’s honor.- And on Kyuin’s cue, they run off into the crowd.

-Bye-bye, Dressrosa. It was a really nice stay!- Dellinger calls, and skips in place between Jora and Gladius. Then Lao G behind them, and Buffalo and Baby 5 at last. Tears fall down her face as well, but her steps are calm – as if she’d never want to turn back.

Now I’m alone. Riku and Viola walk towards him, calmly, as if they were taking a stroll. 

-This was not supposed to happen, but do not feel for a moment as if what you and your family have done will be forgiven.- 

-You find pride in your mercy, King Riku.-. Doflamingo takes a deep breath, refilling his lungs with dearly missed air. -Was it not your downfall, or am I mistaken.-

-Your cruelty was yours. Now that it’s over, what will you even do?-

-Reflect, I guess. I will find myself a new pastime.-

Riku’s forehead tenses. -Do not treat my words as a joke, Doflamingo. You know exactly how great the pain you and your family inflicted upon me and us all is.-

If he’s expecting an answer, he is not going to get it. _I could use some wine_. The sun is setting: the sky is pink, like the coat they took from him, and the sun is as red as his now shattered glasses. Even the world itself knows which side to take. 

-Yet I chose mercy, because I have faith in it. What you and your family went through is not our way. I wish for you to reflect upon this during your penance. You are a skilled man. You could have been one of the greats.- 

-Have I not been?-

Teasing the very man that showed him mercy, chained, still shivering underneath the cloth of dirt and the actual cloth that coat him: such has become of him, and for the first time his own skin feels uncomfortable. Riku rubs a hand on his forehead. 

-My dear wife Iris taught us all the beauty of pacifism. She forgave the man who stole her heirloom ring. He was hungry, and did not thing straight. What you did puts the act to shame, yet I see you are hungry as well. Whatever it is, it was this that brought you here. Was there something that could have been done to quench it?-

-They don’t feed prisoners well, I have to say.- 

-We’re not getting anything from this man.- Viola says, and her lips clench in annoyance. -It’s as if nothing has happened. All he deserves is jail.-

-Such he will have.- 

Riku glances at the crowd yet again, his forehead furrowing again in disappointment. That Dressrosa is not _his_ Dressrosa, and he’ll never get it back. He leans his hand on Viola’s back, like an old man in need of a walking stick.

-So begone now, Donquixiote Doflamingo. May this unfortunate experience clear your mind and help you see your mistake.- 

None of this will happen. He remains a foolish geezer, if he thinks so. He has been through worse, and none of him was broken. They all have. As the throne he’s strapped to is lifted towards the warship, he reclines his head on the backrest and lets his gaze follow the pink and red sky. His new cape is stained in blood already, and feels as heavy as lead. 

So much lost. So much suffered. And yet, it already feels like a memory, to bury within himself alongside all the rest of his nightmare fodder. Inside the warship, he reminds himself, twelve traces of comforting familiarity await. 

It was indeed, just a walk. And where it will lead them, only time will tell. 

_I keep breaking while you keep making it so hard._

_So hard._

_So hard._

**Author's Note:**

> \- The names I gave to Senor Pink’s groupies, besides Kyuin, are Kari (black hair and earmuffs), Joanna (red hair and cowboy hat), Charlotte (orange hair) and Emily (blonde hair and rose). Giving them names and an active role was the least I could do, unlike the canon where they didn’t even try to hide Senor’s fainted body from the marines. I couldn’t flesh out their personalities since this is not their stories, but let me tell you: it was fun seeing them shift into badass mode for their beloved Senor. Only too late did I remember that “Charlotte” is also Big Mom’s last name. Mea culpa.  
\- The name I gave Doffy’s mom was Zoraida. I wanted her name to “fit the theme”, and it felt to me that Dulcinea was too obvious. Also, “Saint Zoraida” just sounds awesome.  
\- The name I gave Riku’s wife, mother to Viola and Scarlett and grandmother to Rebecca, was Iris. It was one of the names Oda considered for Rebecca herself, and the name of a flower like Viola.  
\- “Wait, Diamante cannot possibly be Pica’s father figure, they only have a five years age gap”, let me say that this is the least possible place where you will find a conventional family relationship. I believe these two came to find each other before Trebol and Vergo entered the picture. Didi still sucks as a parent, considering what the end result was, but this ending presumably settles their discrepancies. Also, he totally calls him “pebbles”.  
\- Diamante’s handicap was inspired by the movie Million Dollar Baby. If I tackle him in the future, his fate may be even harsher, from losing his sight to going full-on vegetative. What I will never employ is the movie’s ableist ending. Even if reduced to a wreck, Didi will never choose to die and will always be part of the family.  
\- Baby 5’s canon ending is terrible. She deserves to be punished for her acts just like her family. If Buffalo, Sugar and Dellinger can’t be spared despite them too having been in the Familia since childhood, so can’t she. Sai will return to Uholisia and marry her par for the course.  
\- Kyros says nothing throughout the story because I don’t like him.  
\- Monet totally froze Pica’s throat at one point. Even though I think his main problem is not his pitch, but rather the others’ reaction to it (he had all the means to change his voice if he wanted to, but he did not), I believe there were points where he turned his rage to himself and pretty much self-harmed.  
\- This may not be the last time we see these people here.


End file.
